Learning Love
by QueenDeedee
Summary: They are a strange pair. Kisuke, who doesn't know how to take, and Ichigo who only knows how to give.
1. Quiet

1.

When Kisuke's arm snakes from behind him and reaches for his hand for the second time in the evening Ichigo knows something is up. His lover is distant on the best of days, always an unshakeable frozen peak dusted in unexpected blizzards, treacherous passages, and a permanent bite of bitter coldness as razor-sharp as the glint of intellect in his steel grey eyes. Occasionally, Kisuke "relaxes" – maybe he lays down his head on Ichigo's lap or holds him a little tighter at night when he thinks his lover is asleep. The surrounding mountain ranges to his soul warm in what could maybe be a lowering of the permanent guard he's trained himself to keep… or at least, as much as he can bring himself to for a man who had traded his emotions for the survival of his charges and himself more than a century ago.

It's one of the reasons Ichigo loves him: Kisuke Urahara is strong. He's so raw and twisted inside that his own mother probably wouldn't recognized him but these tears and coils are not damages (at least not all of them, not anymore), they're upgrades. They're rigid and toughened scar tissue grown over the parts of the ex-Captain that weren't strong enough to keep moving forward along with his soul. Kisuke doesn't expect saving and that's how others see him as well. No one thinks he ever needs help or support. In fact, Kisuke doesn't _want_ it.

But Ichigo knows that everyone –regardless of power or strength– needs help and support. In the end, don't the shinigami think the same of him? That Ichigo is invulnerable, unshakeable? At 19, alive and traumatized, he's a fundamental pillar of the Afterlife. Kisuke is no different, he just hides it better. (He's had more practice than the Substitute Shinigami). Ichigo thinks Kisuke's lied about his inner self so much that he's started to believe his own lies.

 _No, he doesn't miss his home._

 _Yes, he's fine._

 _No, he's not upset about his exile._

 _Yes, he can fix it._

 _No, he doesn't feel guilty about creating the hogyouku._

These are just some of the shadows that his lover is too capable of ignoring, of defying and of shutting out from his immediate frame of mind. Even now, that Ichigo's willing, daring and stubborn enough to look through the fog of charm and calculation of his tactics, physically tear away the fan which he hides behind… Kisuke doesn't know what to do about it. Ichigo knows that a part of Kisuke, a small sliver of the man who suffers inside the devious shopkeeper and drowns in grief and regret sees the hand Ichigo reaches towards him. He doesn't to know how to take it, if he can or even if he wants to. And sometimes when he has that piece of heart Ichigo gives him –in an attempt to quell the lasting winter storm inside him– the former Captain doesn't know what to do with it.

"What is it?" Kisuke's demeanor doesn't change. His eyes are still far away and his fingers are still rubbing little circles in the back of his hand (something he never does), but Ichigo does not need incriminating proof of his lover's moods. He just goes with the flow, and right now the flow is a distracted and upset shopkeeper. His other hand flashes and suddenly it holds a fan up, another sign something's off.

"Ah, Ichigo." Kisuke murmurs coyly. "Whatever makes you think something's wrong?"

"Don't do this." Ichigo answers patiently, not letting himself rise to the bait. Maybe once upon a time, when he was younger and much more rash… But life's taught him a lot, and so has the year of Psychology he's taken. Besides, if he told Kisuke the things that had given him away today he'd never do them again. Ichigo had learned that one the hard way, Kisuke now only pulls his hat lower into his gaze when strictly necessary instead of when he feels vulnerable and in need to hide. It'd been such a good tell, too. "You know I know that you're upset, and don't you dare lie." Ichigo's scowl is firmly in place, seemingly impatient.

"It's nothing important really." Kisuke answers flippantly. Ichigo hears the small _thump_ of him throwing his head back against the sliding door. Even as he says so, Kisuke's body tightens a fraction around him; another familiar tell. Ichigo knows that Kisuke is a pool of mystery for most people, and considering that applied to him as well (long ago) he understands how, but at the same time, now he can't remember a time where he couldn't read his lover like a book.

"If it's so unimportant I'm sure you won't mind telling me then?" Ichigo's head is still in the same book he's been reading, in the same position since he'd arrived sitting between Kisuke's legs, his back against the wider torso behind him. This was one of Kisuke's favorite spots, reclining against the opened sliding door of his room, his bedroom to one side and his little garden in the other. Perfect light for reading and the most relaxing breeze. Though, today it doesn't seem to be relaxing enough.

Kisuke grabs Ichigo's sharp jaw, bringing his torso into an almost uncomfortable twist and brings their faces impossibly close. He takes the fraction of a second to look into amused brown eyes and allow their breathing to mingle before he presses his lips to Ichigo's in the sweetest of gestures. Ichigo puts his book aside in a swift movement. One hand caresses his lovers jaw as Kisuke slides a tongue against Ichigo's slightly chapped lips. Ichigo smiles into the kiss as a hand sneaks up Kisuke's shoulder to tangle on his hair because he knows when he's been played and suddenly-

"Ow." Ichigo pulls back on Kisuke's long strands viciously, making his head snap back. It takes Kisuke mere seconds to regain his composure. "That was unnecessary." He mumbles, irritation underlining his voice.

"Don't try to change the subject." Ichigo says without remorse. "You're a hundred years too early to try to pull such a thing over me. I know you better than that." Ichigo turns around, sliding further down against Kisuke, and allowing his head to rest on his thigh. He looks up at Kisuke from his comfort on the floor.

"If I'm not mistaken, it is me who has centuries of knowledge." Kisuke mumbles, running a hand in through the short bangs.

"Details." Ichigo hums unhurriedly, he knows Kisuke's going to tell him.

They stay there for a while, Kisuke petting Ichigo's hair and Ichigo nuzzling his thigh. Ichigo feels warm against Kisuke, maybe a little too warm but the breeze is nice and soothing and night isn't a long ways off. A part of him is a little worried that he might fall asleep before Kisuke cracks.

"The house is quiet." It is uttered so casually that it almost sounds like Kisuke is just ignoring Ichigo's pending question and is changing the subject, but the orange-haired man knows better. And suddenly, he understands what's been bothering Kisuke all day. Kisuke's house has always been lively, even before the kids. First, they'd been hiding with the Vizards. And then him and Yoruichi and their dragging of poor Tessai in 'adventures'... well, there had rarely been boredom or peace. And when Jinta and Ururu had joined them that energy had doubled. The war had changed all that. The end of the War hadn't meant the continuation of normality. The house isn't empty, but it is quiet. Too quiet.

Ichigo knows what quiet does to your thoughts, and he knows what it does particularly to his lover. Kisuke always has to be doing something, building, learning, experimenting, talking, fucking... Anything but being left alone to ponder on his choices, or examine his actions... His brilliant mind starts working out better courses of actions and impossible reasons as to why he should've seen this or that tragedy coming. (His lover is a talkative drunk.)

"Did I tell you about how Kensei got caught double timing last week?" Ichigo feels Kisuke relax against him as he realizes Ichigo will not prod. Ichigo wants to, oh, he _aches_ to know all the little connections his lover's brain makes, how one thought links to the next and what conclusions Kisuke takes out of his day, specially the time they spent together... But he's a very reserved man, and Ichigo understands - in theory - that regardless of how much Kisuke trusts him, sharing just doesn't come naturally to him. Getting him to admit something is wrong is taking less and less time, the words come easier to his lips each time but that's because Ichigo works hard to make him feel safe in his confessions.

So, he can't badger Kisuke with help no matter how much he wants to. So, he'll settle for this, for now. This is good enough. This reprieve is a reward, a promise that Kisuke only needs to go as far as he's comfortable and tricking him into opening himself a little more each time. Meanwhile, Ichigo knows what the problem is -today, at least- and so he sinks himself into meaningless chatter, he can make quiet a lot of noise when he wants. His lover's hand remains intertwined in orange-colored tresses and eventually he drifts off to the sound of Ichigo's soft chatter.

* * *

Preview for "Happiness?":

 _How can a man with so much blood on his hands, so much grief in his soul, and so much responsibility and regret on his shoulders laugh such a beautiful laugh?_

* * *

 **Hello, this story has a huge, huge outline all done. I already have some of it written but I'm trying to get out as much as possible before updating so don't expect updates for maybe a month. (I just** ** _could not_** **resist posting at least this first chapter.)**

 **There will be no explicit sex scenes, but plenty of T Rated snogging. This story is inspired by the completely brilliant and heartbreakingly incomplete** ** _Shades of Grey_** **by SilverKytten which got me obsessed with this pairing. The updates to this will be faster than my other story (** ** _Ripples over the Moon)_** **, and that's the only thing I can promise.**

 **If you're interested I have recently started posting my original work online via three mediums: twitter and instagram as danaruewrites and on tumblr as lowkeywriting; so if you'd like to, check it out!**

 **As always reviews inspire me and are thoroughly appreciated.**


	2. Happiness?

2\. Happiness?

Kisuke considers himself the smartest man he knows. It's not a conclusion he has reached lightly and it's also not one he advertises; especially not after being outwitted by Aizen all those years ago. But it is also something he knows to be true. He speaks to others people and he sees the clogs turning as they think and learn and understand… He sees their brows crinkle in confusion and their eyes light up when they get it, and he thinks it's all so _slow._ Not to say there are no other smart people around because there are, they're just not _as smart,_ not as _fast._ There's people more _experienced_ than him too and that's important to mention.

At 347, Kisuke is a fairly young Shinigami and one who has spent more than a century on exile at that. But that just goes to further prove his intellect, because despite how his capabilities should be less, they're decidedly _more._ He knows the importance of the part he's had to play in the events of the last century, despite how logic dictates his seniors should be further qualified. But they're not, because Kisuke is smarter, the kind of intelligent that's gluttonous in its hunger for knowledge.

The kind that is not content with basking in its own talent and achievements but the type that rejects the idea of good enough, and that strives helplessly and doggedly for perfection. _Always._ A dangerous mindset, he knows, but one that is as inherent to himself as his zanpakutō. (Kisuke has always been a dangerous man.) He's always wondered at people's abilities to dismiss the fact that he served in the Second Division long before people knew him as a scientist or a candy shop owner. And it this razor-sharp intellect that fails him when it comes to understanding one Kurosaki Ichigo. Who is currently cracking up about some off-handed comment from Kisuke.

If someone had told him that the scowling, hot-headed kid that had crossed his threshold years ago had the most beautiful laugh, and that Kisuke would love it, he would've laughed and fanned himself, amused at such a ridiculous notion. And yet, here he is. They are out of the city, in one of the wooded outskirts of Karakura with nothing but a blanket Kisuke had grabbed at the last moment and it's the most peace he's had in days. Kisuke's sitting cross-legged on one side with his feet bare, his sandals off to the side. Next to him, Ichigo lays on his stomach, propped on defined forearms. Kisuke is a personal fan of running his fingers over the raised veins. Ichigo's hair is so soft and his lashes so long and his eyes so kind that his beauty should be feminine, but the sharp jaw and sunken eyes, not to mention his incredibly toned body leave no argument; his slim lover is a very ruggedly handsome man.

And a very grumpy, short-tempered, and introspecting one too. His smiles are rare, because they can only appear when Ichigo's relaxed enough to let go for a moment of the demons that serve as constant company to his unforgettable pains. Kisuke doesn't know what bears a higher burden on Ichigo's souls: the memories of the war –bloody and inexplicable– or its outcome – where Ichigo had lost so much. And yet, he remains the owner of the most brilliant laugh Kisuke's heard. One tender enough to abate Kisuke's own darkness, if only for a while.

Kisuke does not understand how a man with so much blood on his hands and so much grief in his soul, and so much responsibility and regret on his shoulders can laugh such a beautiful laugh. How? _How?_ And how can it be him, the former Detention Unit Captain, a man whose conscience had gone mute long ago and whose morals, motives and loyalties are questionable at the best of times, be able to bring some kind of comfort to such a damaged soul? (Damaged but unbroken defined Kurosaki Ichigo much too well.) It's not something new. It's even older than Ichigo and Kisuke's existence as a pair.

When Kisuke sees Ichigo lose his powers, his eyes trained on the face of a boy that is sixteen going on a hundred, whose entire existence became the deciding factor between victory and ruin… He sees Ichigo's blank face. He thought he was seeing the breaking of Ichigo Kurosaki. No smile and no frown. What expression could possibly embrace all the feelings in him? Kisuke catches the moment his eyes lose their focus, blind to Rukia, because he's no longer able to _see._ And Kisuke also catches the dimming of his eyes, and it's a loss bigger than sight or consciousness, it's a crack in a soul the world thinks unbreakable. (Kisuke knows that nothing is above despair and life's wicked games.)

If Ichigo hadn't kept on breathing then, Kisuke would've thought he had died. When Ichigo came to him months later, the first thought that crossed Kisuke's mind was that maybe he had. Maybe he had and he just hadn't noticed and he just kept going on stubbornness and sheer will power alone, Kisuke could believe it. He'd taken one look at his young face and he'd remember how Ichigo had looked with long, midnight black hair and bandages… Like victory, was the general feeling of the people around him. Like the end, Kisuke had thought.

A part of him wants to ask, so badly. The back of his eyes itch with curiosity, his chest aches with the sheer _need_ of understanding the intricate inner workings of such an undefeatable, complex man. But he can't bring himself to ask. It doesn't matter how much he dreams of cutting Ichigo up emotionally and dissecting all the pieces that compose the most wonderful and impressive of souls, (1) Kisuke wants to find out _by himself._ (Call it stubbornness, call it pride. Kisuke's smart, not wise.) And there's also the fact that (2) Ichigo might not be sure as to why he's able to swim and not sink while he's actually drowning. And Kisuke has seen him drowning.

"You're a terrible person." Ichigo murmurs as his laughing subsides, referring to Kisuke's previous inappropriate comment. But no matter how morally ambiguous, it hadn't kept Ichigo from laughing at it. As he looks at Kisuke his eyes are vibrant with color, with life. "There's definitely a special place in hell for you." He chuckles again. Kisuke just looks him back in the eye and answers.

"Oh yeah, for sure." And then he whispers conspiratorially. "It's called the throne." This makes Ichigo choke in another round of laughter. Kisuke just smiles serenely and keeps on thinking, keeps on wondering about the innocent mystery that is Kurosaki Ichigo and does not dismiss the idea that this gnawing curiosity is partly why he keeps Ichigo so close. A nasty traitorous thought, but Kisuke has knows for awhile that he's a selfish, despicable man as much as by nature as by nurture and there's not much that he can do about it.

* * *

 **I know I said I'd hold on the update but I'm writing so much I can't help myself.**

 **I'm officially looking for a beta, so let me know if you're interested.**

 **I hope you like it!**

* * *

Preview for "Curiosity Couldn't Kill the Cat":

 _He'd been ashamed about a lot of things in his life, but this isn't going to be one of them. He meets Yoruichi's eyes head on._


	3. Curiosity Couldn't Kill the Cat

3.

Kisuke sometimes struggles to divide his time when Ichigo is in his bed.

A part of him is insatiable in its thirst for the younger man's moans and quivering thighs, of the rapid falling of his chest and the plumpness of his lips. Of the feeling of Ichigo's calloused hands tugging at his hair just hard enough to be painful and give him an air of dominance that only arouses Kisuke even more. Ichigo's a challenger everywhere in his life, and in bed he is no different. He's loving and beautiful and shy and Kisuke enjoys every electric touch and every hair-raising kiss.

But he also craves rest for the both of them. He knows that sometimes, Ichigo's only peaceful times are as he dozes off when Kisuke's nearby and he knows that the orange-haired teen is the best recipe for a dreamless night. He likes it. Waking up freer and not trapped under the covers trying to forcefully remind himself that whatever horrors hide behind his eyelids have passed, because they're never not real, they're just dead and buried. Often times literally.

Other times he just wants to enjoy Ichigo and the way he feels in his arms, and Kisuke cannot be surprised that the former death god is a cuddler. If one thinks about it, Ichigo seems like the type. His favorite way to cuddle has been the same since the first time he crawled into Kisuke's bed, with his back pressed to Kisuke's torso with an arm wrapped securely over him. Even now, Kisuke feels the small puffs off breath over his forearm. He smiles a little, and sneaks his free hand to grab Ichigo's ass. (It is a very nice ass after all, and he cannot possibly get tired of it.) And then, he sighs in content and it is testament to how relaxed he is that Yoruichi manages to sneak up on him. (A part of Kisuke shouldn't have forgotten that he's not a man allowed to relax under any circumstance and he bites his cheek in anger so hard he tastes blood.)

"Are you fucking with me right now, Kisuke?" She says loudly, and Ichigo doesn't stir. He can't hear her because Yoruichi is in her spirit form and some of the heaviness in Kisuke's chest leaves. That's good. No reason for Ichigo to be bothered by this. He processes Yoruichi's words and just to be an ass smiles and goes to answer her _(Not you, Yoruichi. No)_ but she also seems to realize the nature of her question and glares at him threateningly. "Don't you dare; you piece of shit."

"I haven't said anything." He whispers, slowly climbing out from the bed, careful to not wake up his companion, but there's really no way to gently disentangle the arm Ichigo has within his grasp and as Kisuke moves it, unfocused brown eyes look his way, almost right through him. Ichigo turns his head slightly to look at him and Kisuke smiles gently.

"Kisuke?" The question is hoarse and rough in an unused voice but it's a wonderful sound anyways.

"Bathroom. I'll be right back." He answers. Ichigo sighs and slowly let's go of his arm, nodding sleepily several times before rolling over and burying his head back into his pillow. His breath evens out in seconds and even with the situation Kisuke can't help the way his eyes soften. The moment would've been tender if Kisuke hadn't felt Yoruichi's glaring daggers at him, specially when Kisuke rolls out of the futon naked as the day he was born. He staves off the need to roll his eyes at her, she already knew they were sleeping together; though he doesn't want to let on how much her presence bothers him and goes to get dressed.

Minutes later, they stare each other down. The air in the small room is tense and heavy, and not even the sweet aroma of the tea being served can hide the rage seeping in the air from Yoruichi. As a reinstated captain of the Gotei 13 she's wearing a tight fitting black outfit – that leaves little to the imagination – and her captain's haori. Her long hair is loose in waves instead of in the usual ponytail, and it softens the sharpness of her features into something lovely and not so jagged. Even Kisuke, who's always been more into men than women, thinks she's breathtaking with her eyes flashing like unforgivable lightning bolts. (He's always had a love for violence.)

"I don't even know what to say, Kisuke." His friend sounds the most revolting combination of complete disappointment and tired disgust. She's sitting across from him in the same table where they hold a million and one memories of both laughter and tears, and she looks like she doesn't know him. "This is a new low even for you."

Kisuke does really know how to explain to Yoruichi that for the first time since they've known each other he doesn't care what she thinks. His friend has always been a better moral compass than the one he was born with but this time even at her stare Kisuke's heart is unmoved.

"You would think so, yes." He replies, taking a sip of the warm tea he'd made for both of them in an attempt to keep this controlled, natural and routine-like in hopes that his friend would calm down and hopefully leave before Ichigo woke up. He could've denied her accusation at any other time but she'd found them in his bed, all tangled limbs and soft breathing. Something told Kisuke 'it isn't what it looks like' isn't going to cut it, specially when it's _exactly_ what it looks like.

"He's a kid." Yoruichi suddenly bellows slamming her hand hard against the table, making the steaming cup rattle. Kisuke's eyes hardened and he raises one slender finger to his lips. The purple-haired woman clearly couldn't care less about his concerns as her golden eyes flash in anger. "A goddam kid! Barely even twenty, barely even legal! To top it all off, from what I understand he's been depressed since he lost his powers and what you've done is called fuckin cradle-robbing!"

"He's not depressed anymore." Kisuke answers, taking another sip from his tea. He has better arguments than this, but he feels this is such a pointless conversation. He feels exhausted just thinking about explaining himself and his relationship with Ichigo. Specially when he doubts it'll make a difference. His friend is stubborn. "And I'm not forcing him to do anything. I did not seduce him nor manipulate him and everything about us has been organic and consensual. And barely an adult _still_ makes him an adult."

"You honestly don't see anything wrong with what you're doing." She sounds incredulous. "Nothing. Not the fact that you're 200 years older, or that he's an incredibly traumatized kid who's had everything in his life meddled with or taken? Or how about the fact that he's one of your closest friends' son… nothing?" Kisuke looks her in the eyes and thinks about telling her that he can't let Ichigo go even if he wanted to. That he's become addicted to falling asleep next to him whenever he can and that he doesn't sleep as well when he's not there. That he feels like a teenager and a man and not some façade that he's built for the first time since they've been exile. He thinks about the expression she'd make if he told her that Ichigo could see more of him than anyone else, even the Shihouin Princess. And that he dreaded the one upon Isshin's face when he finds out.

"Do you really not care about just messing him up farther?" She asks, and she's angry and Kisuke understands why, he really does. He knows what it looks like, and he thought about it the first time he saw Ichigo's darkened eyes look at his lips, targeting… but Yoruichi would never understand, even if Kisuke explained. She hadn't seen the darkness inside his lover. And it wasn't a feeling of pity that tipped Kisuke down the rabbit hole, but an inherent attraction. Kisuke saw the darkness and he knew it was calling him, maybe because fractured souls like theirs could recognize a kindred spirit.

"What would you think would happened to him if I leave him? Salvation?" He responds.

"Do it before this becomes serious." She urges and Kisuke admires how misunderstood the situation is in her mind, and how little explaining he's really done but he's tired. So tired. "I've seen you string people along your entire life, play them beautifully like a violin until all their chords are broken and chaffed and then you don't want them anymore. I've always let you do as you please, I have never uttered a word so please, listen to me now and please let Ichigo go."

"It's been going on for a year and five months." He tells her and he can see the shock written clearly all over her face. "And I'm not stringing him along. I was worried for all the reasons you mentioned and many more but it doesn't matter because I'm staying in his life until Ichigo kicks me out of it. So, if you have something to tell him about his choice of partner do so yourself and then tell me how that goes." But he knows she won't be able to do anything, Ichigo loves him and it's a love that has endured secrecy and pain and so much darkness that Kisuke doubts Yoruichi really understands what their relationship means at all. Some days Kisuke thinks he can't quite grasp it himself.

"So think of me what you will. Think me despicable, or a cradle robber; but don't assume this situation is anything like you've seen of me before, because just to be clear–" The tatami door slides open and a sleepy Ichigo stands there, only some teal-colored boxers covering his modesty and his chest gloriously bare showing two dark, purple love marks in his collarbone. A palm rises to rub away the sleepiness in his face.

"Kisuke? What are you…" but the question doesn't come. Ichigo's eyes go from Kisuke's pinched face to the two teacups on the table and a shadow storms his face. And even powerless, his frame betrays just why Ichigo was so feared as a warrior. His bare chest ripples in muscle and his scowl –which Kisuke hasn't seen in awhile– is unmistakably dangerous. Kisuke has the uncharacteristic need to squirm. "Someone's here."

He states wearily looking in the general direction of where the Third Division Captain is still sitting rock still. Kisuke nods even as he wants to lie. He knows what these situations bring out in Ichigo; vulnerability and fear. Yoruichi seems decidedly uncomfortable, as if she subconsciously understands her presences has ticked off the teen.

"Who? Do they…?" Ichigo seemed to struggle forming the words as if hesitant to give too much away, he's scowling something fierce and Kisuke is surprised by how foreign the expression looks on his lover when once it looked like his default expression. (It still is for everyone else.) There's heartbreak in the way the corner of his mouth pull downward in a grim frown.

"Yoruichi managed to sneak up on me this morning, yes."

"You're going soft on me, Kisuke." Ichigo's tone is light but there is no hint of amusement in his weary features. And his eyes do not stray from the spot where he knows the shinigami must be sitting, as if he would be able to see her by sheer force of will alone. "Is she taking it well?" Kisuke directs his eyes to his oldest friends and sees her complete confusion at the situation and the way she's looking between as if seeing them for the first time. She doesn't look angry at the moment, but it doesn't mean she isn't.

"A little surprised is all." Yoruichi frowns as if his omission of the truth is condemning, while Ichigo crosses the room in three long strides and sits next to him, unnecessarily close he might add. He raises a hand to tangle in Kisuke's hair and pulls in one harsh motion.

"Don't lie to me." Yoruichi chokes out a brief, surprised laugh; and Kisuke's pride stings a little, but he should've known that coming. Ichigo's keen understanding of his body language is unprecedented and uncanny. The hand slides from the top of his skull to palming his cheek, the thumb rubbing appreciatively over the stubble and for a moment it feels like nothing's change and that there's only the two of them in this place, but then Ichigo sighs and turns. "Get into your gigai, I also have a right to talk."

And in the end, Kisuke might've not been too persuasive but Ichigo is brilliant and razor-sharp as though the reason he stays with Kisuke, to the point that he disarms Yoruichi's distrust and arguments with ease. And he's brutal about it, too.

"You don't know him like I do, Ichigo."

"I could literally say the same thing."

"I know him better than anyone, believe me when I tell you he's great at everything except love."  
"And yet he could hide an entire romantic relationship from you for more than a year, I'm sure he can surprise you again."

"He's old."

"So is my soul, that's what happens when you become involved with death and war at fifteen."

"You're dad will never approve."

"I don't think he approved of me fighting in a war either, but it didn't stop me from fighting it or you from helping me, for that matter."

It didn't matter what complaint Yoruichi raised, Ichigo was ready. Kisuke wonders if he practiced for this moment. In the end, when even the Goddess of Flash sits in the stubborn, sullen silence of defeat, Ichigo relaxes minutely as his eyes soften.

"I've lost a lot in life." He tells her in sincere earnest. "And I understand this is a complex and unusual situation, and I appreciate your need to look out for me; but I'm asking you to trust me now as you trusted me to take down Aizen, and to not take Kisuke away from me." And there really is nothing the woman can say after that. She looks at Ichigo, whose amber brown eyes are locked on hers, and Kisuke wonders if maybe she's getting a glimpse into the abyss.

"If he ever mistreats you or does anything to you…" She starts. "You come straight to me. Promise me." Kisuke sees Ichigo's scowl but he answers diplomatically anyway and Kisuke is amazed by this creature all over again.

"Of course." Kisuke takes this chance to open his fan and smile mischievously.

"Isn't it nice that we're all getting along again?" He says cheerily. "All's well that ends well. What a great visit, Yoruichi, we can't wait to have you back." And even with the warm, eccentric tone and the caricaturist movement the danger flashing in Kisuke's eyes is very real and he's glad Yoruichi doesn't miss it. She gracefully accepts his dismissal.

* * *

Preview for "Unprecedented Loss":

 _His friends call it the loss of his powers, but he knows what he really lost was a part of his soul._


	4. Unprecedented Loss

He sits and watches his friends and a part of him is content, a sliver that survived from the boy he used to be recognizes that it is this type of easy conversation and myriad of senseless joking the things that used to fill his days with happiness. But it's a small part, and the rest of him isn't _there._ If he didn't know better he'd describe it as experiencing an out of body experience, but Ichigo has yet to forget the feeling of getting his soul expelled from his body and this feeling is different.

It'd been like flying.

It had made him feel strong in ways he hadn't truly understood until he was weak. It wasn't that it really gave him anything, as much as it was just who he was. He wasn't missing an extra thing; he'd been born with Shinigami powers. Whether he had known it or not, he was now missing a part of his self, a part of his soul. His identity had no foundation. _Ichigo,_ one who protects… who's that now?

His heart _aches,_ it aches in a deep longing that will never be fulfilled. Ichigo has an entire life before him and he will never speak to a spirit again, never save anyone again, never go back to who he had been, could never… It wasn't only his powerlessness.

Ichigo has seen too much.

War isn't kind to anyone, specially not the young. He had finally understood what it was to seek glory and find blood, to find strength is nothing but different types of weakness, to want victory and taste death. He'd looked crushing disappointment in the eye again and again. And he is terrified about what will happen to his soul when he dies. _Such a unique case cannot be predicted,_ Urahara had once flippantly said. But it is but one in a myriad of concerns, and he knows that people tend to put off their deaths as a faraway thing. (It's not.)

He'd discovered the depth of humanity and just how dark it got. His own cruelty and capacity for destruction, his friend's doubts and ruthlessness, their still hearts and weaknesses. He wishes he didn't know them so well, know _himself_ so well. There are things meant to lie under the surface, a current that can be felt but not seen or understood. A vague feeling that it's there, a change in temperature… you understand it affects the environment but not how or why. Where does it come from? How did it get there? You don't know and you don't care.

People pity him, it's hard not to notice.

His friends avoid talking about the past or their powers or the war with religious fervor. Sometimes he gets close and they go quiet. (So far away from him.) Some days they're all inexplicably missing at the same time. Other times he catches their worried glances from the corner of his eyes. He hates it.

He's powerless but he's not weak. (There is a difference, he has learned.)

He can tell because of the way his father looks at him. Sometimes Ichigo doesn't know how to feel with all the love and admiration in his father's gaze. It sets his teeth on edge. He hasn't done enough to deserve that. He took the easy way out and on the bad days, despite knowing he had no choice, despite understanding that the other alternative to the war was way worst sometimes he cannot help but regret his choice.

He feels so dirty whenever he does. He feels selfish. Then he feels angry. How can he feel selfish when everything he's ever done has been for someone else, for something else? His eyes have never looked at the now, but always on what is to come. He's powerless but he's strong. He's strong enough to love the people he gave everything up for and somedays he flakes. He flakes and spends the day in Kisuke's bed, never voicing aloud his regrets because he doesn't know what he'd do if Kisuke looked at him differently. Or worse, like he started treating him like his friends. Like everything regarding the Spirit World affects him, or can end up breaking him.

As if he's something precious that needs to be taken care off, instead of an old sword, rusted beyond repair.

He hates it even more than when he does get a reminder of what he lost; because he _is_ affected. It hurts. It squeezes his heart and his pride. It fogs his mind and it sends his pulse running. Because what if something happens and he can't save… well, anyone. He hates how melancholy replaces the bone marrow in his bones, how it weights him down in regret and loss. Hates how he is trapped, anxiety crawling through his chest from the restlessness of "living" in a cage of his own making.

Ichigo has no one else to blame for his pain.

He made a choice. No one else. And no one asked him to carry the weight of the world, but Ichigo understands that he's never known how to do anything else. Who is he without the self-imposed responsibility of everyone around him?

What if he–

"Ichigo?" Orihime's voice is kind and soft, careful. Like a sip from an expensive tea cup. All airs and regret, _why use the expensive set? What if it breaks?_ Brown eyes meet grey in acknowledgement, registering for the first time in a while the surroundings of the school roof. His friend calls it the loss of his powers, but he knows what he really lost is a part of his soul.

"It's nothing."

* * *

Preview for "Innocent Ignorance":

 _Kisuke's honesty is as sharp as blade, and it cuts him open with too much ease._


End file.
